Dear America, Roosters cockadoodledooo at ALL hours of the day.

This is a long one…
In a country where the language does not distinguish between “love” and “like” it’s easy to understand how a population of people can be so kind and hospitable as though it is a part of its national identity.
Here in the village of Kanye (just a few kilometers away from the capital, Gaborone) the people have all taken kindly to us. We are greeted with smiles…and giggles galore. We greet them in Setswana and they are so delighted and maybe just plain surprised to hear a foreigner attempt to communicate in their language. For now the Setswana ends with the typical greeting and basic inquiry about ones status. I’m slowly progressing to be able to tell people I am tired or hungry or needing to bathe, instead of just stating a scripted, “I am having a good day and I feel great!” Most everyone speaks English in addition to Setswana and if they don’t speak it publically they at least can understand it and respond in their native tongue.
Only a few days have passed and I have experienced one weekend in the village, but it seems like months have passed. Every single occurrence seems like an occasion or some large cultural experience that I take note of…so each day feels long and so eventful.
I have moved in with my host family and my new name is Peo (meaning “seed”) Sengalo (family name). I live on a compound with 3 houses. One house has a tiled roof and is home to Cecelia, the grandmother and her daughter, Phenyo (26).
In the other house, which is a traditional round one-room house, is Galaletsang (28). She has two children, Leageng (18 mo.) and Phio (7). They seem to run around and sleep in whichever house/room/bed they fall asleep in. The main house, which I assume is the original and first house built on the compound, is my home. I don’t live here alone. There is a live-in babysitter, Onkemetse (20), who stays in the room next to mine. I have a tin roof and there are some damn birds or chickens or SOMETHINGS that run and hop skip jump fight mate cluck chirp just over my head.
They do not allow me to sleep past 6:30 on ANY morning. I really have gotten used to this and don’t have to set an alarm anymore. So there’s the cool side of the pillow.

I really have gotten ahead of myself. First, let me tell you that before meeting my homestay family, I was scared to death!
A. I felt terrible from the overload of malaria medication and the series of vaccines we had been given within the first few days in Africa. Between being disoriented, dizzy, and jetlagged…my spirits were quite low.
B. All of I could think of was my terrible experience with the crotchety senoras in Spain.
We had a large matching ceremony where the families came to a facility in the village and they announced our names and respective families and met each other after a large welcome by a few select figures from the community, including our village chief! I was greeted with a great hug by Gala (the oldest sister). She has the most high-pitched chuckle/giggle and she uses it frequently when I attempt to say anything in Setswana. Before even arriving at her house I discovered that she was engaged and her fiancé was going to be driving us to her home. She immediately told me that I must come to the wedding on September 30. I was beyond flattered by such an immediate invitation.
Gala works at a hotel type facility that I haven’t totally figured out, but she occasionally brought me bottled water from her work when I was still adjusting to the taste of the water from the tap. & her fiancé is a policeman!
Cecelia works at the post office and she spends a lot of hours on her feet it seems. When she gets off work in the afternoon my job is to make tea for her. Silver platter included with the cutest little teapot you’ve ever seen. I made peanut butter cookies the other day and included them on the platter with her tea. Of course, she called them tea biscuits…there’s your post-colonial Africa for the day. I’m obsessed with the sunset here and we have the most perfect view from the back steps of the house. All of my family has figured out it is my favorite time of day and oftentimes Cecelia sips her tea with me at sunset. Today I took a much needed nap and missed the sunset for the first time, but when I woke up all my sisters commented that I had missed it this evening. It was just so kind of them to take note of that. The other day, I made my blueberry tea (Christine) and they LOVED it. I guess it’s a nice treat to your taste buds after years of black tea.
Phenyo works at Choppies, the local grocery store. Sometimes I go in there after my classes are done at about 4 pm and buy a soda and say hello. She was on sick leave this past weekend, but she walked with me to her work all dressed up so that she could introduce me to her co-workers…a few of which are cousins. I asked her if it was a problem that she was on “sick leave” and she seemed in perfect health to visit her place of work…she didn’t seem phased by the question so I didn’t pursue it. When people ask me my name there I tell them I’m Peo Sengalo, Phenyo’s sister. They get a HUGE kick out of that and I’m all the merrier to entertain and put a smile on someone’s face. Sometimes the workers I meet ask me if I remember their name the next day and honestly, I couldn’t pronounce it if they told it to me and little do they know that I can’t remember American names, much less Setswana names!!! This is something that I really must work on…it’s a good life skill…a universal life skill!
Oh yeah, so this weekend…I noted in my journal that by 8:45 am I had hand washed all of my laundry, started a fire and heated my bath water, bathed, and dressed to go out the door for some village exploration. I must say that I couldn’t have done it alone…I had the help of my friendly birds atop my roof to wake me up. Hand washing laundry: jeans, bed sheets, and towels will be my demise, but what a feeling of accomplishment after the fact! I also use so much less water that I did in the states. I heat about a ½ gallon of water and then mix it with the cold running water until I have a reasonable puddle to sit in. I then squat, lay, dip… whatever to get my hair wet and wash my hair and body. I’m getting better at this. Also, I realize that I have neglected my feet in the shower for too long. It’s really nice showing my feet some extra love with some soap and a rag. Also, I bought a rag at the Choppies that is blue and the dye CONTINUES to come out in my water. Inevitably after each bath I have blue water. Also, I bath in an outhouse. It is separated from the neighboring toilet room. Also, there is the old school pit latrine that is still standing next to the outhouse. I don’t feel that adventurous to use it when a running toilet is available, but it is nice to see how it was in the old days, ya know.
Also, the TV and radio are frequently used. They both play very loudly everyday. My first day here the babysitter put on her FAVORITE Celine Dion CD and I washed dishes to My Heart Will Go On…can you imagine?! Otherwise the radio plays Rihanna, The Temptations, and Adele…in that order. There is a lot of American hip hop, which I don’t mind, but sometimes I forget I’m in Africa when I’m having a dance party with my family in the living room listening to Jay Z. Oh yeah, we do a lot of dancing in the house and I don’t mind a bit.
We eat dinner in front of the TV and there are a couple of shows they like to watch…or really the only ones available to watch…Generations is a crappy soap that I can’t follow the characters or storyline or anything really. The language is a straaaange mix of Setswana and English, both used in the same sentence throughout the episodes. It’s weird to my ears to hear such foreign sounds and phrases intermingled with clear British English vocabulary. Oftentimes I find that I unconsciously decide to go bath or study Setswana during the show and don’t realize until they ask me if I’d like to finish the show before getting up to leave. I’m really less than interested in the TV. Oh dear lord, and there is a Botswana version of American Idol. I don’t like American Idol, and you can imagine my feelings towards Botswana Idol. Although on Sundays from 4-6 pm there is a jazz radio show that Phenyo likes to play and ohhhh puddin’ I really enjoy that.
Well I’m dragging on, but while you’re reading I’ll include more information on my life here. I have Setswana classes for about 4 hours each morning and then we have meetings in the afternoons until about 3:30/4. I try to help cook things for dinner, but oftentimes I get intimidated cooking for 6-7 people without my normal ingredients. If I could, I would sautee some squash and zucchini with some basil and oregano….and then pop some baked potatoes in the oven to eat with some greek yogurt! Oh and dessert…we don’t really do that here. We have a cup of Coca Cola for a sweet indulgence after our dinner.
I have eaten some traditional meals and I haven’t disliked any of them. It’s a lot of rice and noodles and potatoes topped with stews like onions, carrots, spinach like stuff that isn’t spinach, and green beans. There is a porridge here that tastes like oatmeal and feels like grits. I like it, but they often mix it with the milk from the cattle post that was left and out curdled. It has a tart taste that isn’t bad but you can’t let your mind KNOW that you are eating curdled milk, otherwise your throat closes up. Just today I had the traditional worm that lives on trees here and you can buy them by the bag full at take-aways (Botswana fast food). It tasted like salty wood chips. If I needed protein and that’s all I had I would eat it, but I doubt that I’ll need to satiate a craving for those things anytime soon. In my backyard, we have a tree that grows oranges that have an intense lemony-citrusy quality that feels like some hybrid of citrus fruits. I like to bring them for lunch and they’re delicious!
I’m sorry for so many details, but it all seemed relevant to give an elaborate account of my last few days in Botswana. I’m feeling good and happy to be here. The adjustment is slow and time passes as such a strange pace. I haven’t quite grasped the thought of me having begun my Peace Corps experience. For some reason it doesn’t feel like it’s really begun, but I don’t know what would really qualify the beginning. I miss the company of good friends and loving family, but I’m slowly (or maybe quickly?) finding a home here.
Until next time, sala sentle (remain well)!